


Belonging only in white rooms

by Allowisp



Series: Stop Saving Me [2]
Category: Heavy Rain
Genre: Gen, Government Agencies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9448964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allowisp/pseuds/Allowisp
Summary: Norman Jayden wasn't born with a past. He's still not sure he'll ever know what it feels like to have one.He just has people, sometimes. And moments.





	

_Don’t bite your tongue_ , prayed Norman. _I know all the tricks._ He watched Ethan sleep in the hospital bed. He was pretty sure visiting hours were over, but maybe the nurses forgot Norman was there, because nobody came in to kick him out. Once, a guy in scrubs walked in and Norman jumped, but he barely glanced Norman's way as he made notes on a clipboard and then left.

Norman would have fallen asleep himself if he could do that sitting up. Maybe if he'd joined the army he would have learned that most distinctive skill of a soldier—sleeping anywhere. He almost did enlist years ago. But when he was packing up his boxes to go to basic after he graduated college he got a call from the FBI. He applied there a year before and forgot about it. He figured he wasn't chosen, they weren't interested. Instead they wanted him to take some kind of test _tomorrow._

Too bad he already told his landlord he'd be out by noon the next day.

He finished packing his clothes, returned his rented furniture, went to sleep on his neighbor's couch, drove in to the college campus he'd thought he was done with at the crack of dawn, took some kind of logic and IQ test, came back to the apartment, shoved his shit in the van he saved up enough working part time jobs his sophomore year to buy, handed the landlord his keys, got in the drivers seat of his van and thought—what do I do now?

He drove to the public library, tried to get to his email, discovered he needed a library card to get online, got the card using his old apartment as his address, tried to log on again and was successful this time, checked his email, and discovered his FBI test had already been graded and they wanted him to take another one. He had to schedule it and take it within the next five days. Well, that wasn't a problem, he thought. He scheduled his phase two test for the next morning, crack of dawn, and stayed on the internet in the library until they kicked him out, trying to find out more about the special agent application process and whether this timeline they were giving him was normal.

He got some late night fast food, then he slept in the back seat of his van after shoving his boxes of clothes around a bit. He almost overslept because his phone died, but sunlight pouring through the windows of his van woke him, and when he turned on the engine the clock on the dash said he was waking up at the time he'd wanted to anyway.

He walked out after the second test, and they told him it might take months to get his results this time. Great, he thought, where do I go next? He called the army recruiter he'd been talking to and explained the situation. He didn't even know if the FBI wanted to hire him at this point. What if he didn't pass the second test? And the third? How many tests were there? But he wanted it. He wanted the chance. So he told the recruiter he couldn't sign his contract, and that was that.

He had planned to put his stuff in storage and go to basic right away. There weren't many other options when he didn't have a hometown like most kids. He never really believed the FBI would get back to him, and he didn't know what to do now that they had and he might have a chance. So, because he didn't know who else to ask, he called an older college friend, a continuing student who had been giving him career advice and who encouraged him to apply to the FBI in the first place.

Joel was the age Norman's dad might have been, and he picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Norman. What's up?--I'll be right back, Allie.” The click of a door and sudden crackling on the mic from wind filtered through his end of the line. Joel was a retired intelligence community guy, a veteran of the navy who at forty-five was finally cashing in his GI bill, and he lived half an hour outside town. He had a wife and daughter and his own shooting range at his house, and he hosted get-togethers there all the time for his friends and professors in the criminal justice program. The main distinguishing feature of the house itself was how many of Allie's LEGO constructions populated the shelves, which themselves all bore the maker's mark of Joel's wife Ivy, a hobbyist carpenter.

“The FBI called,” said Norman.

“Oh, yeah?” said Joel. “What did they say?”

“They wanted me to drop everything and take some tests. So, uh, I did it. I have to wait for the results of the second one. With the first one, though... I didn't think it would happen so fast. Thanks for being a reference for me, by the way.”

“No problem. That's great. Between you and me—well, I'm not saying I have a contact who told me you'd get called, but let's just say I was always confident about your chances.”

“Wow. I don't know what to say to that.”

“The feds need smart, principled, and above all _teachable_ people. That's who I want to work with if I get back into the game. That's you.”

“I really called for some advice. What did you do before you got hired—or, uh, before you were in the navy? I guess my situation is a little different, but--”

“Kid, do you need a place to stay?”

“No, no, I couldn't, it's just, I thought I was headed for the army, and I was set up to sign my contract and go to basic, but then the FBI called and I want to see if they want me first before I, but I don't even know if I'll pass--”

“Let me be very clear about something,” said Joel. “I have ten acres out here that need to be mowed, and I'm building a fire pit in the backyard that I need cast iron and stone hauled in for. Ivy wants the trees close to the house thinned out a bit, and Allie keeps crying about how Ascension is more fun with more people and her friends either don't want to learn or give up when she wins. And I can't let just anybody run around here because my office is full of security consulting shit and I have more guns than the president of the NRA. So if you're willing to work hard I'll pay you and you can have the guest bedroom.”

“But--”

“Kid, if Ivy hadn't agreed to marry me I would have been living on the street after high school. Her job at the furniture store and the tax benefits for couples were enough to make it work for us until I got my first paycheck. I don't know exactly what your situation is, but I've been there and I've got shit for you to do, so you're welcome with us.”

So Norman accepted the help and gained something like a family. Not that he'd know what that felt like. He got his final job offer ten months later and went to Quantico. He moved out, got a place in D.C., and went back to Joel's twice a year for Christmas and Thanksgiving. It was a little weird. Every time he visited he had to relearn how to feel like he was a part of something.

Norman would probably never know the extent to which Joel helped him in getting this job, but he would forever be grateful for it. Even with everything that came with this career and all the ways he was going crazy, Norman suspected that without a place or purpose in the world he would have lost it a long time ago.

He watched Ethan in the hospital bed. He couldn't imagine what it might be like to have a family and then lose it, even though as an agent he had seen this happen many times. There was pain in belonging to the world, and in feeling you belonged with someone who could leave.

Holding Ethan up on his shoulders earlier today in the jail was a lot of things, thought Norman, but certainly, undeniably, it felt real. Maybe he was a bad person for making Ethan Mars live, for keeping him from joining his sons. But not a lot of things felt real anymore to Norman, and he was inclined to hang on to the things that did.

 


End file.
